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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251509">Happy Birthday, Bridget</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbomba/pseuds/hbomba'>hbomba</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wentworth (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Canon Lesbian Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fridget, Lesbian Sex, domestic flulff, fluff and sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:41:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29251509</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hbomba/pseuds/hbomba</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Bridget's big birthday looms, Franky is there to remind her to "chill."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Franky Doyle &amp; Bridget Westfall, Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prelude to a Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Time was a thief, constantly stealing from her. It stole months of her life with Franky when she was held at Wentworth, and it was slowly, ever so slightly stealing her beauty with each passing day. The blonde stared into the bathroom mirror, her reflection questioning what she was looking at. On the eve of her fiftieth birthday, Bridget Westfall felt impossibly </span>
  <em>
    <span>old</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things had changed greatly in the past year. She’d thrown her hat into the private practice ring and started taking on clients in her home office. She organized appointments after Franky had left in the morning until early afternoon and still did group sessions at Life Solutions a couple nights a week. It was certainly different listening to the kinds of problems women had in the suburbs as opposed to the microcosm of prison, but it was a good living with a lot less stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then there was life with Franky… every day was an adventure In its own right. She brought laughter and joy to Bridget’s home on a daily basis, even if she didn’t get her taste in music or some of her jokes, they were oddly in sync despite widely disparate backgrounds. Fitting like puzzle pieces, where Bridget lacked, Franky filled, and vice versa, there was a certain symbiosis between the women, one that Bridget hadn’t ever felt with anyone prior.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky’s parole was up soon and they’d be free to leave the state for holidays. It was still a ways off, but it was something they both looked forward to. Getting out from under the watchful eye of Corrections was important and for the first time in ages, Bridget was planning for her future beyond the following week.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knuckle rapped on the door before it opened unceremoniously. Ghostly green eyes peered into the bathroom. “You okay, Gidge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget looked away from her own reflection to meet her concerned expression. “Yeah,” she exhaled, smiling weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door pushed open wider.  “You’re full of shit, but I really have to pee, so…” Franky walked past her to the toilet and sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no shame for Franky, and why should there be? She’d survived prison and the expectation of who a person “should be” after something like that was a weighty assumption to take on. But Bridget was aware of that only because she’d worked with women who had tried (and often failed) at being perfect socialized women and how harshly they were judged for it. But there was no pretense with Franky and Bridget was comfortable sharing her bathroom, even if it meant she had to listen to Franky pee while she removed her make-up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flushed the toilet and sidled up to the sink to wash her hands. “So what’s got you staring at yourself for a half an hour, Gidge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget capped her moisturizer and massaged the lotion into her skin. She turned, eyes unblinking in the bright light of the bathroom. “I’m old.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuckin’ stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky dried her hands on the towel beside the sink. She squeezed Bridget’s waist and held her still. “Stop. You are a glorious, vivacious woman. Besides, you keep up with me just fine”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget groaned and hugged Franky. She didn’t usually fall prey to vanity, but there was a certain pressure to remain hip and current when her girlfriend was ten years her junior as her birthday loomed despite the rest of the year when it was low-key bothersome. And it was only irritating because of the flack she took from the select few women in her life that knew about Franky and their relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Astrid had been horrid the first time she met Franky. Bridget remembered her appraising the younger woman like she was at a meat market and then the words Bridget would never forget: “So you’re the wild one that’s making Bridget come these days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky took it better than she could have expected. She laughed and replied: “Only on days that end with ‘y’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They became fast friends, not-so predictably, but Astrid still took every opportunity to point out the humor in their age difference. Bridget was a good sport about it, especially because she recognized that Astrid wouldn’t mention it so much if she weren’t envious. Tonight, however, she was glad that Astrid was not around to see her vulnerability regarding her age. Bridget was sure the joke would land too close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She plodded to the bedroom after Franky. It was late. The house was dark, save the lamp in the bedroom where Franky had been reading while she waited for her to come to bed. Of course, that was before Bridget had taken a half hour detour to put moisturizer on and ponder the status of her crow’s feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, nestled into the crook of Franky’s shoulder, Bridget sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the saddest sigh I’ve heard in awhile…” Franky’s voice cut into the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not sad, just…” She sighed again as if to try to describe it. “Coming to terms with aging.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Gidge. You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>gorgeous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Don’t sweat the number, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bridget said noncommittally, as they faded into slumber.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bridget awoke to the sound of the morning birds chirping in the trees outside. She stretched languidly, hand sweeping across the sheets to find the other side of the bed empty. Her eyes opened slowly, squinting at the clock. It was nearly ten a.m. and Bridget became aware of Franky’s music bumping gently against the closed door to the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed and then she felt a smile tighten her cheeks. Bridget knew that the attitude one took to face an adversary (even one as perverse as aging) was the most important step to conquering self-doubt and fear. Today she was fifty, but her girlfriend was probably dancing in her underwear in Bridget’s living room at that very moment. Which she chose to dwell on would make all the difference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard Franky’s heavy footsteps in the hallway outside the bedroom. The door swung open and Franky’s voice filled the room. “Rise and shine, gorgeous girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget sat up and smiled at Franky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There she is…” Franky beamed. “Hope you’re hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a trick question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky laughed. “Yeah, no.” She took a few steps towards the bed and reached for her hand. “C’mon, up you get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget groaned melodramatically. “But I took today off so I could wallow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not on my watch, Westfall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget perked up. “Ooh, is this Bad Cop?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky snatched her hand and yanked her upright. “C’mon, breakfast is getting cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right, okay, I’m coming.” Bridget clambered out of bed and slipped into her robe, cinching its belt before following Franky down the hallway toward the kitchen. The aroma of coffee hit her first, and then the layers of breakfast smells overlapped and muddled in her nose. Whatever Franky had been cooking smelled heavenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky thrust a cup of coffee into her hand and walked ahead of her to the table, pulling out a chair for her. “Sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget smiled serenely. “I’m enjoying your firm hand this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t seen anything yet, babe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget let out a satisfied laugh as Franky sauntered to the kitchen only to return a few moments later with an array of fruit on a tray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hummed, licking her lips as she bit into a slice of cantaloupe. “Lovely,” Bridget said as she chewed the mouthful, watching Franky move to the stove again. “What have you got over there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky looked over her shoulder at her, and she deliberately flashed a bit of her thigh from beneath the silky robe. When she turned and Bridget could see what was on the plate, Franky could also see what Bridget was flaunting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky’s smirk said she’d noticed, but she only offered her menu in reply. “Quiche, with brie, spinach, and pancetta.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget straightened as Franky slid a plate in front of her and sat down across the table. She lifted her fork, poised to poke a piece of pastry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Gidge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this my present?” She asked, pausing for effect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you be happy if it were?” Franky raised her eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It certainly doesn’t have the same charm as jewelry.” Bridget smirked bemusedly before lifting a forkful of quiche to her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget hummed as she chewed. “Although, it’s pretty good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowned, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “Better than,” Franky said pedantically. “Excited for your party?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She screwed up her face. “Can’t we do something alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky looked at her seriously. “C’mon, you haven’t seen Astrid in weeks. It’ll be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You haven’t seen her in weeks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>have been avoiding her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky wiped her mouth. “What’s the story there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget felt cagey. Defensive, even. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She picked at the slice of quiche on her plate absently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky smirked. “A shrink that doesn’t talk. That’s amazing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shrinks listen,” she said obstinately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t about your age again, is it?” Franky picked at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And if it is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me now, because if tonight is going to be anything like your forty-fifth, I want to be prepared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was having an existential crisis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You locked yourself in the bathroom because Astrid called you Mrs. Robinson.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget set her fork down and looked across the table seriously. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>said </span>
  </em>
  <span>I don’t want to talk about Astrid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want me to talk to her? Tell her to lay off the geriatric jokes for a time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s her hang up, not mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky laughed. “Okay, but you will let me know if you feel another existential crisis coming on, won’t you?“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon, Gidge. You gotta admit, you’re kind of being ridiculous about this whole aging thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feelings are never ridiculous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Franky sighed. “Do you want me to cancel everyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waved a hand. “It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna remind you that you said that.” </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>end part one</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Party of Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The morning was spent lounging and reading the paper, Bridget ousted Franky’s noisy rock music for calmer news radio and the easy listening station which she knew bored Franky to tears. But it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>day and she was going to fully indulge and, for her part, Franky was only mildly irritated by her shenanigans. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rested her feet in Franky’s lap as she read the paper until Franky acquiesced and began to massage her feet. It was a small measure of affection, but it was certainly not overlooked by Bridget. She laid the paper down in her lap and let her eyes drift shut, enjoying the warm squeeze of Franky’s hands on her skin. She was so comforted by her touch that she found herself drifting off to the quiet conversation of talk radio and Franky’s meticulous hands on her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She awoke on the lounge, covered over in a quilt, and she smiled at Franky’s thoughtfulness. Wandering into the kitchen, she found Franky preparing food for the party. She approached her silently, sidling up behind her to peer over Franky’s shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit!” She gasped as Franky moved suddenly and bumped into her unexpectedly. </span>
</p>
<p><span>“Jesus, Gidge. What</span> <span>are ya doin’?”</span></p>
<p>
  <span>“Just trying to get a sneak peek.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There will be none of that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget smirked. “Come on, Frankyyy…” She whined, pressing herself against the other woman. “Give us a taste,” she said huskily. With Franky momentarily distracted by her wiles, she reached around her and snagged a slice of red pepper, biting into it before Franky could snatch it back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky shook her head. Leaning back against the counter, arms crossed, watching disgruntledly, she watched as Bridget grazed on the vegetables laid out on a tray. “Fine. But then I’m gonna need you to get the fuck out of the kitchen before--.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before what?” Bridget smiled, needling her further. Bridget knew it was petty, but if she were honest with herself she’d admit that she was glad to be giving her even a portion of the grief Franky had caused her over the years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky laughed as Bridget spun on her heel and turned to leave the room.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>A lazy morning evolved into a busy afternoon and careened into a hectic evening. Bridget was sitting on the bed pondering what shoes to wear when the bell rang. She heard something metal clattering into the sink and then Franky’s voice over the new party mix she’d streamed to the stereo. “Gidge, get a move on!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget groaned when the next voice she heard was Astrid’s. “Franky!” Her voice was boisterous and she imagined her exchanging cheek kisses with Franky ironically. “Where’s the birthday biznatch?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Aaaaaand there it was. The game was afoot and she put on a courageous face, deciding alternately to say “fuck it” to the shoes--it was her birthday party, after all--she yanked open the bedroom door, padding barefoot into the birthday fray.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget flashed her biggest, bravest smile at Astrid and Franky who were standing by the couch, Astrid with a highball glass and Franky with a beer. They were laughing as they often did when she left them alone. There was an odd familiarity between the two and Bridget certainly wasn’t ready to accept why that was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bridget! Darling!” She received Astrid’s over the top greeting cordially.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Asshole was just telling me about her latest conquest.” Franky smiled deviously at the name drop.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid crossed her arms. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t call me that until I’m too drunk to care.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Better get a move on,” Franky said to Astrid, lifting the hand holding her drink toward her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid drained her glass and thrust it back at Franky. “Fetch me another, will you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky smirked at Bridget and wandered off toward the kitchen as Bridget plopped down onto the lounge and crossed her legs..</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid looked down at Bridget’s bare feet. “A little Bohemian, Bridge, even for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In that case, I won’t tell you about the status of my underwear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Westfall, you are in rare form tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget smiled. Her shock and awe campaign was landing appropriately close to Astrid and she may have distracted her from harping on her for a little while longer. “This?” She motioned at her bare feet. “Is just the start, Astrid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid’s mouth hung open momentarily. She turned to Franky who was approaching with drinks in hand. “How delightful for you,” she said to Franky unironically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky looked at Bridget quizzically. “Righto.” She passed a nearly full glass of red wine to Bridget and fired another kamikaze into Astrid’s hand. “A toast.” She picked up her beer from the coffee table and raised it into the air.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To the best teacher, and confidante that I’ve ever had.” Franky smiled, obviously proud of herself and her toast. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, that was assuming she was finished, which she would never know because Astrid chuckled. “To Mrs. Robinson.” She clinked her glass against Bridget’s before her kamikaze made another crash landing in her gullet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God,” Franky groaned. “You are such an asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bell rang and Bridget literally jumped at the chance to escape, getting to her feet quickly and scampering away to answer the door. She pulled the door open and was greeted by a gift bag. Vera poked her head out from behind the shiny silver bag and laughed quietly. “Happy birthday!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Vera, thank you,” she took the bag from her and invited her in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the guest of honor doing answering the door?” Vera asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The butler needed the night off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vera stared at her momentarily and then exhaled a little puff of air. “Oh, you’re joking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come in, please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She led the way to the lounge where Franky and Astrid were talking about something in hushed tones and it looked like Franky was the one telling the tale this time. That was never a good sign.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vera, this is Astrid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re Vinegar Tits.” Astrid nodded, looking Vera over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget’s eyes darted to catch Franky squeezing her eyes shut. She did not need to look any further to understand what they were whispering about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll have to forgive Astrid, this is her first time out of the asylum for a weekend visit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid laughed. “Touche.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky stepped forward. “Vera, what can I get you to drink?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wine would be good,” she nodded awkwardly at Franky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coming right up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the addition of copious amounts of booze, the night quickly devolved into a deranged and drunken story time and with the introduction of Astrid to Vera, it was no surprise that both Bridget and Franky featured heavily in the tales. It didn’t seem fair, however, that Vera had supplied Astrid with more ammunition, but she took her lumps, especially since Astrid was oddly reserved with her Bridget stories.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget studied Astrid as she interacted with Vera and Franky. Something was off with her. Her laugh was overconfident, overcompensating for whatever was bothering her, and in addition to being meaner than usual earlier, Astrid seemed distracted. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget frowned, trying to make sense of her friend’s hidden issue. At first she thought Astrid was mad that Bridget had gone missing in action from their Friday nights at the wine bar for a few months and she’d not talked to her regularly since, but she didn’t appear to be begrudging Franky any happiness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fact was, things between Bridget and Astrid had fractured shortly before Bridget met Franky and she’d been trying to hold their friendship together since because she had so very few friends and even fewer friends that were in the know about Franky. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things hadn’t always been so tenuous between Bridget and Astrid. In fact, she’d seen Bridget through some truly terrible times and in spite of all the snide remarks she recently had to tolerate, Astrid wasn’t terrible. Bridget had to tell herself that because she had slept with her. Franky had no idea--it was before they were even acquainted--but it was part of her and Astrid’s shared past. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If Bridget were to examine why she slept with Astrid, it was simple. She was beautiful, full of moxy, and she was there when Bridget needed a soft place to fall. Bridget had been struggling, looking for a connection for a very long time and then one night at the wine bar, in the taxi riding to her flat and even the morning after were fraught with tension. Astrid was exactly who she needed her to be when she needed her. She couldn’t say it only happened once. She couldn’t even say it only happened twice. No, they had gone down a dangerous path--the friends with benefits path--and it happened </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ultimately, Bridget lost interest and things fizzled out. It was awkward in the beginning, meeting for wine and tapas and saying goodbye after paying for the check, but Bridget was committed to resetting their relationship. However, it hadn’t gone to plan, though she never relapsed into Astrid’s bed again, but after she’d been assigned to Wentworth and introduced to Franky, things were strained to say the least.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky broke away from Vera and Astrid and brushed past Bridget as she headed for the kitchen. Looking after Franky, Bridget glanced back to the other women, deep in conversation, before following her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky looked up from the makeshift bar she’d arranged on the kitchen counter. “Hey,” she smiled. “Need a refill?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget looked at her half-empty glass of wine and nodded. But in truth, it wasn’t why she had followed Franky. “Sure.” She thrust her wine glass toward Franky. who lifted a bottle off the counter and poured the ruby liquid into her glass, topping it off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Franky set the bottle back on the counter she leaned back against it and sized Bridget up. “You’re awfully quiet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just thinking…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope you are over that feeling old bullshit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nodded and trailed off into a thought she couldn’t repeat. “Mostly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” Franky smiled. “I hate seein’ you so out of sorts. It’s fuckin’ weird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget laughed. “I’ll try to ratchet up the normalcy for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bartender,” Astrid hollered from the lounge. “Another round, and make ‘em doubles!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget looked over her shoulder at Astrid, still overcompensating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is her deal tonight?” Franky asked under her breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure… keep an eye on her, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You say that like I have a choice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling, life is full of choices.” Bridget stepped into Franky’s space, their bodies a breath apart. Hand on her hip, wine in her other hand, Bridget continued. “But if you choose not to keep an eye on Astrid, be prepared for the inevitable shitshow.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky feigned surprise. “Is that a threat, Ms. Westfall?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just fair warning.” She smirked,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heeded.” Franky slipped away from Bridget and headed toward the lounge with another glass of wine for Vera and a very potent kamikaze for Astrid, despite her best interests.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An hour later the four women grazed over the hors d'oeuvres in the hopes of slowing the creeping drunk that was overcoming them. A round of waters was quickly tossed aside for more alcohol as Franky returned from the kitchen once more with an armload of drinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swayed as she passed the drinks around.  “I wanna make a toast.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t we do that already?” Astrid griped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nuh,” Franky said abruptly, shutting Astrid down. Franky smiled at Bridget from across the small table in the lounge as she raised a bottle of beer. “Here’s to another year with the brightest constellation in my sky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget felt a blush coming to her already flushed cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid lowered her drink without taking a sip. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be a dick,” Franky said, annoyed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I really think I’m gonna be sick,” she said before rushing out of the room. The bathroom door slammed echoing in the hallway and out to the lounge where they stood, speechless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Vera lowered her drink. “I suppose I should be getting home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Vera.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just going to call a taxi.” She smiled awkwardly as she walked toward the front hall. “Thanks for inviting me, it was nice to see you both. Please tell Astrid I enjoyed meeting her, too.” Vera shuffled stiffly out of the room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And here I thought you were going to be the one locking yourself in the toilet again.” Franky smirked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should check on her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky sighed and relented, wandering past Vera on the phone in the hallway, she stopped in front of the bathroom door. She could hear Astrid retching and she grimaced, raising a hand to rap on the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Astrid? You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go away, Franky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky took a step back away from the door and put her hands up before turning back to find Bridget with Vera in the hallway. Bridget embraced Vera unsteadily and they both laughed as they separated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Happy birthday,” she said as she passed by Bridget. “Bye Franky,” she called over her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take care,” Franky said as Bridget saw her to the door. She shut the door and leaned against it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Think you’re gonna have to go hold her hair, Gidge.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You invited her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s your friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Best party ever.” Bridget sighed and walked toward the bathroom, leaving Franky to begin clean-up. She listened at the door, trying the knob quietly to no avail before knocking lightly on the door. “Azzie?” She said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The toilet flushed and she heard her moving around inside the bathroom. She knocked again. “Come on, Astrid. Open the door.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A few more moments passed and then she heard the lock click. The door opened slightly and Bridget crept inside, shutting the door behind her. Astrid was splashing her face with water and hadn’t yet acknowledged Bridget.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey… are you okay?” Bridget approached her, reaching for the towel hanging by the sink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid turned to face her, but instead of vulnerability she found a roiling ball of anger. “You’re the shrink. What do you think?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget held the towel out to Astrid, who took it without thanks. “You wanna talk about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If it would help…” Bridget kept her voice even and calm. Trademark psych. Astrid sighed and sank to the floor beside the tub. “C’mon. What’s wrong? We were having a good time, weren’t we?” Bridget crouched beside the other woman.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I keep going over it and I just don’t understand how we ended up here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>to drink…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget brushed a stray hair from Astrid’s cheek. “Astrid…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked up at her. “Why wasn’t I enough, Bridget?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget raised her eyebrows and sighed before sitting beside her. “Astrid, we’ve been through this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, we haven’t. You made the decision for the both of us. There was no discussion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember it differently.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you keep me around?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed again. “We were friends, Astrid. Remember when we just enjoyed each other’s company after a long week?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Astrid laughed. “Yeah, I do. I remember you going home with </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we should talk about this in the morning, after you’ve slept it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You won’t like what I have to say any more in the morning, either.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Speak your mind, then.” Bridget closed her eyes and waited for the inevitably uncomfortable confessions of a former best friend. And lover. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really can’t see it, can you? Tall, dark and handsome? And she’s a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>paralegal</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget frowned. “Franky was never the problem, Astrid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed again. “You sure about that? How’s parole treating you? How were the four months when she was inside? Have you even had a vacation since you got involved with her?” The lawyer’s rapid-fire questioning caught her off-guard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget silently chewed her lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why’d you end it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head. “Friends with benefits was a bad arrangement.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s funny because I was under the impression our relationship was progressing until you told me it was over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Astrid. I can’t change what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then you go and put your entire career on the line for her!” Astrid exhaled, exasperated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, we aren’t getting anywhere with this.” Bridget clambored to her feet. “I’ll get some blankets and you can sleep on the lounge tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That solves everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want, Astrid?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget softened. “I thought you liked Franky.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s…” Astrid gritted her teeth. “She’s great.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Astrid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t told her, have you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget shook her head. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you think she should know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I hadn’t thought about it,” she lied. It was a ballsy lie, but she went for it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bridget, be real. You overthink making tea some days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine. I’ll tell her.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>end part two</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. After Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter goes out to @LaurenShapiro for tirelessly helping me flesh out the character motivations. I hope I did all right!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Bridget emerged from the bathroom she was tired--so tired--of birthdays. She padded down the hallway toward the kitchen where Franky was leaning against the counter sipping from a bottle of beer absentmindedly, a bag of garbage at her feet.</p>
<p>Bridget smiled at the scene. “You’ve been busy.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t want to wake up to it,” Franky said simply. “How’s the hot mess?”</p>
<p>Bridget sighed. “Messy.”</p>
<p>Franky smirked, drumming her fingers against the counter. “Sorry about your party.”</p>
<p>Bridget frowned. “Why?”</p>
<p>“Asshole and Vinegar Tits? Not a great guest list.”</p>
<p>“You’re hardly to blame for that.”</p>
<p>“Aren’t I? Gidge, face it. I haven’t met your friends--and I know you’ve got plenty--because of obvious reasons. So yeah, it is my fault that you spent all night drinking with them.”</p>
<p>Bridget tilted her head, her expression softening. “Franky, I never asked for a party, but if I had to have one, it wasn’t so bad.”</p>
<p>Franky laughed. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement.”</p>
<p>“If you want the truth, I only wanted to spend today with you.”</p>
<p>The bathroom door creaked open again and Astrid came into view in the hallway behind Bridget. She looked between Astrid and Franky whose hurt and confusion were obvious to even the uninitiated. </p>
<p>“I think I’ll get a taxi home.”</p>
<p>“Astrid…”</p>
<p>“It’s your birthday--”</p>
<p>“And it would be very rude if you left when I asked you to stay.” Franky looked between the women suspiciously. “Come on, let’s get you a blanket.” Bridget guided Astrid toward the lounge. </p>
<p>Bridget could feel Franky watching her as she went to the linen closet for a spare blanket and pillow. Returning, she fluffed the pillow as she approached Astrid.</p>
<p>“Get some rest.” Bridget set the pillow on the lounge and passed Astrid a neatly folded blanket. When Bridget turned, Franky was gone. </p>
<p>“Bridget?” </p>
<p>Astrid’s voice pulled her back and she reversed course momentarily. “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“I know you probably won’t believe me, but I’m really sorry for fucking up your birthday.”</p>
<p>“I believe you,” she said quietly, before turning away and retreating to the bedroom after Franky.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Bridget reached the bedroom she found Franky sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for her.</p>
<p>“Hey,” Bridget said, as she crossed the threshold.</p>
<p>“She right?”</p>
<p>“She’ll be fine once she gets some sleep. Although there is the high probability that she’ll be hating her life tomorrow morning.”</p>
<p>“I get the feeling she already hates her life.”</p>
<p>Bridget sighed. “Yeah.” <em> Now or never. </em> “Franky, I need to tell you something.”</p>
<p>Franky frowned. “What is it?” She asked trepidatiously.</p>
<p>“You know that Astrid and I have been friends for a long time…” </p>
<p>“Yep,” Franky leaned back on her hands and stretched her legs.</p>
<p>“I haven’t been completely honest about our relationship.”</p>
<p>“You’ve slept with her.” Franky said indignantly.</p>
<p>“A long time ago. Before you and I met.”</p>
<p>“A one-off?”</p>
<p>“No.” Bridget shook her head, chewing her lip.</p>
<p>“Oh, Gidge.” Franky exhaled. Bridget was unsure what to think of her response until Franky began to laugh. “You really have a type, don’tcha?”</p>
<p>“What?” Bridget tried not to be annoyed even if she was a tiny bit relieved that Franky didn’t go running down the hall to leap on the lounge.</p>
<p>“Oh my god, you don’t see it, do you?” Franky covered her mouth in mock-horror.</p>
<p>“See what?”</p>
<p>“She’s what? Five-ten?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bridget agreed.</p>
<p>“With brown hair and a mouth that’s been washed out with soap a few times…”</p>
<p>“Franky…”</p>
<p>Franky’s eyes went wide with the realization. “Gidge, she’s a fucking <em> lawyer </em>!”  </p>
<p>And then it hit her like a ton of bricks: Franky was younger, more tattooed, and Franky certainly had done more time than Astrid, but the similarities were glaring. </p>
<p>“Shit.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t notice.” It was a statement of fact, not a question.</p>
<p>How had she missed it? Was she so wrapped up in Franky’s circumstances that she couldn’t see Astrid’s? Whatever the case, Bridget’s blind spot for her own bullshit was bigger than even she had realized.</p>
<p>“Franky…”</p>
<p>“Did you love her?”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “No, I couldn’t.” </p>
<p>Truth was, Astrid was great. She was exactly what Bridget needed when she needed it. But once the dynamic in their friendship had shifted, Bridget lost interest. She wasn’t proud of herself for participating selfishly in drunken nights of sex and release, but she accepted herself for doing what she needed. When she broke it off, the damage had already been done to their relationship, and as much as Bridget had tried to rework their dynamic, she realized now how one-sided the reforming of their relationship had been. For a psychologist Bridget had failed Astrid (and herself) mightily. </p>
<p>She was sure she could pinpoint the moment when Astrid stopped looking at her longingly and started sniping at her verbally after their hard-reset, which was why she still put up with it. She had wounded Astrid with stories about Franky during the early days of their entanglement, not intending to do so, of course, but by doing so had fostered the idea that Franky was her replacement when she couldn’t (and didn’t) feel that way about Astrid.</p>
<p>“Why are you telling me now?”</p>
<p>“Astrid’s meltdown was not unrelated.”</p>
<p>“So, Astrid’s in love with you?” Franky asked incredulously.</p>
<p>Bridget’s mouth hung open momentarily. “I--I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“Can’t say I blame her.”</p>
<p>Bridget looked up at Franky who smiled at her impishly. “You’re okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Franky nodded. “Are you?”</p>
<p>Bridget was caught off-guard by the question. In fact, Franky had surprised her greatly with her reaction or lack thereof. She took a moment to truly consider her own feelings. She’d spent the night tip-toeing around Astrid and now that she had been mindful of Franky’s emotions she had time to focus on her own. Problem was, she was having a difficult time breaking it all down. </p>
<p>“I’d be lying if I said today was just like any other day.”</p>
<p>Frankly laughed. “No shit. I invited Vinegar Tits to a party.”</p>
<p>Bridget chuckled. “Proof that there is a first time for everything.”</p>
<p>“I guess!” Franky said, standing up and walking to the dresser. “I have something I want to give you but I’m not sure if now’s the right time.” She pulled the middle drawer open and reached under a pile of her clothing.</p>
<p>“Are you kidding? I’d love to have a diversion.”</p>
<p>Franky withdrew her hand from the drawer, pulling a manila envelope from beneath the clothing. “Sorry about the boring wrap job,” she said, turning and handing the envelope to Bridget.</p>
<p>They shared a smile as Bridget unlooped the envelope’s closure and took out two more envelopes from the larger one. The plain white, letter-sized envelopes had a neat number one and two written on them in the corner. Naturally, she tore into envelope number one first.</p>
<p>Bridget’s eyes glanced over the words “Adult Parole Board” and Franky’s name. “Franky, what’s this?”</p>
<p>She smiled. “Read it.”</p>
<p>Bridget read the words “approved” and “early parole” and her heart jumped. “When did you--”</p>
<p>“A few months ago. I wanted to tell you, but when the paperwork came I had a better idea.” She picked up envelope number two and placed it in Bridget’s hand.</p>
<p>Sliding her finger into the flap of the envelope, Bridget ripped it open eagerly. A pair of plane tickets fell into her lap.</p>
<p>“I know it’s presumptuous, but I wanted to surprise you.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Franky. This is wonderful.”</p>
<p>“You haven’t even seen where we’re going.”</p>
<p>“It doesn’t matter.”</p>
<p>“Then, look.” Franky rocked back on her heels.</p>
<p>She read the itinerary. “Bali? Oh, Franky, this is too much.”</p>
<p>“Happy birthday, Gidge.”</p>
<p>Bridget stepped up to Franky. Still in her bare feet, she had to stand on her tiptoes to reach for her. “Thank you.” She kissed Franky softly. “I think this is the best present I’ve ever been given.”</p>
<p>Franky grinned and looked at the ceiling. “Well, there was that one time…”</p>
<p>A low and sultry laugh escaped Bridget’s lips.”That was good.” She wrapped her arms around Franky and squeezed. “But this is better.”</p>
<p>They swayed together in the quiet of the bedroom, Franky’s arms draped over Bridget’s waist, her wrists crossed behind Franky’s neck. For a moment she forgot that her ex was passed out on her lounge with a trash can beside her to be sick in. </p>
<p>Franky leaned down to kiss her and there was no room for thought. The closeness after an evening fraught with tension was a welcome distraction. She sighed and melted into Franky. When they parted, Bridget frowned and looked away.</p>
<p>“I can’t…”</p>
<p>“Is this a situational or an emotional thing?” Franky asked seriously.</p>
<p>“Both,” she blurted without even thinking.</p>
<p>“Ah, right.” Franky sighed and backed away. </p>
<p>“Franky…”</p>
<p>She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” </p>
<p>Bridget knew Franky wasn’t upset with her, but the situation was untenable for them both. Birthday sex was off the table for the time being. There was no way in hell she could have a good time knowing Astrid was down the hall and she was not prepared for what it would make them if they were not respectful of their guest, as drunk as she may be.</p>
<p>Franky absentmindedly got undressed and slipped into pajama bottoms and a tank top. She was sullen and Bridget knew that her mood was not an indictment of the situation, but rather a symptom. For a special occasion, Bridget’s big birthday was a total bust. </p>
<p>She idly changed into her nightwear and climbed into bed, carefully. Franky laid beside her on her back, hands locked behind her head, as if to acknowledge that she was resigned to her fate. At least on this night. Bridget imagined her in this same pose, defiant in the slot, and smiled at how far she had come since their first meetings. </p>
<p>She never imagined they’d end up here, years later, on her birthday, in a forced celibacy. But life hadn’t always turned out the way she had planned either. Astrid was a force to be reckoned with and when they met, Bridget was in awe of her tenacity for her job and her ability to live without needing much from anyone. It was alluring, attractive, and inspiring. Bridget felt supremely out of her league and it was a feeling she couldn’t shake, even after they began fucking every Friday night.</p>
<p>When she started to notice Astrid changing incrementally to favor her, she found it unnerving that her mere presence was softening the formerly put together attorney. She made concessions for Bridget at her flat, she left her schedule open on the off-chance that Bridget had time, and she was attentive to a degree that it concerned her deeply. In her practice there was nothing she hated to see more than a client decompensate. And the worst possible situation was when a capable person felt the need to diminish themselves for another person. And when Bridget felt that was what the situation between them had turned into, she reversed course quickly. </p>
<p>How she came to that all those years ago was a bit more complicated and time-consuming but ultimately she pulled away and left a shell in her place hoping that Astrid would lose interest. And she thought she had until Franky entered the picture. Beautiful, broken Franky. But instead of sinking deeper into her criminal tendencies at Wentworth, Franky found the courage to rise to the occasion and her broken pieces created a splendorous mosaic that Bridget couldn’t escape.</p>
<p>Bridget smiled at the thought of Franky’s issues glittering like stained glass in the sunlight and it was the last thought she had before she succumbed to slumber.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Morning came more quickly than Bridget was prepared for. Franky was still asleep when her eyes popped open at the sound of the toilet flushing. And instantly she remembered the night before. “Shit,” she sighed.</p>
<p>She wrapped herself in her robe and crept from the bedroom quietly. When she reached the kitchen she found Astrid rustling through the cabinets. She spun around and her hands shot up to hold her head. “Oh, fuck! Where do you keep the coffee?” </p>
<p>Bridget pointed. “Go sit and I’ll make you some coffee.”</p>
<p>“What the fuck did Franky put in those drinks?” Astrid asked as she headed for the lounge.</p>
<p>“Concentrated evil,” Franky’s voice echoed through the bungalow. Bridget turned to see Franky approaching from the bedroom. “I’m just going for a run,” Franky said, slipping into a windbreaker and rounding the corner. She smiled at Bridget and cast a wary glance at Astrid before heading for the front door.</p>
<p>Bridget stirred cream and sugar into a pair of cups on the counter, and then carried them to the lounge where Astrid was still recuperating. Her dark hair was mussed, her make-up smudged, and her clothing wrinkled--she was a shadow of herself. She sighed as Bridget set the cup of coffee in front of her.</p>
<p>Astrid groaned uncomfortably. “Do we really have to do this?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>She lifted the cup and peered into it. “I’ll get over it.”</p>
<p>“I know you will.”</p>
<p>“Then why do we have to talk about it?” She asked petulantly.</p>
<p>“Because we should have spoken about this ages ago.” Bridget opted not to sit in the armchair and instead chose to sit on the lounge beside Astrid, who instinctively gathered the blanket to her chest and scooted into the corner. </p>
<p>“You told her?”</p>
<p>Bridget nodded. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Huh…”</p>
<p>“Astrid, what happened last night?”</p>
<p>“A moment of weakness. I’m over it.”</p>
<p>“That’s great. Care to tell me how you got from where you were last night to where you are now so I can understand?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know. I was three sheets to the wind.”</p>
<p>“So it was the alcohol.” To say Bridget was skeptical would have been an understatement.</p>
<p>“Sure.”</p>
<p>“Bullshit, Astrid.”</p>
<p>“What do you want to hear, Bridget? That I’m hung up on you?”</p>
<p>“It’s not a matter of what I want to hear.”</p>
<p>“Sure it is.”</p>
<p>“No, Astrid, nothing could be further from what I want for you.”</p>
<p>“Right. And what is that?”</p>
<p>“I want you to be happy.”</p>
<p>A derisive laugh escaped her. “Bridget, how am I supposed to do that?”</p>
<p>“It’s time to move on,” she said simply.</p>
<p>“You’re ending our friendship?”</p>
<p>“Of course not,” Bridget said reflexively. “But whatever idea you have about us, it has to change.”</p>
<p>“Things were so much better when…”</p>
<p>“Astrid.” She said her name to bring her back to the moment. “You don’t need me, you never did, but someone out there needs you.”</p>
<p>“But I do--”</p>
<p>Bridget cringed internally. “You want me, you don’t need me.”</p>
<p>“Is this where you tell me that you can’t always get what you want? Because I think I’ve learned that lesson already.”</p>
<p>“I suppose you have. You’re my friend, Astrid and I love you, but I’m with Franky now. I don’t regret what happened between us, but that’s not what I want anymore.”</p>
<p>Silence reigned but Bridget let her sit with her words and waited patiently for her to process. It was a skill honed from years of working with other women, and she only partially felt guilty for using her insights on Astrid.</p>
<p>She exhaled. “I can accept that if you can tell me why you fell for my doppleganger with a record?”</p>
<p>The hard realizations were not as easy to access and Bridget had been operating at a level of denial that she would have spotted in a client a mile away, but now that it was all out in the open, the glaring problem was revealed. Franky needed her. She had always needed Bridget and the pull of that was intoxicating. But this wasn’t about destroying Franky to build Astrid up. Instead, Bridget explained it without mentioning her.</p>
<p>“You were there for me when I needed you, Astrid, and I am indebted to you for your strength. But I don’t need it anymore. And I’m not what you need either.”</p>
<p>Astrid nodded, sullen. “How much does she hate me now?”</p>
<p>“No more than usual.” </p>
<p>Astrid looked up at Bridget and saw the smile that awaited her and they laughed simultaneously. “Just another day with The Asshole.”</p>
<p>“No,” Bridget shook her head. “You’re not an asshole.” </p>
<p>“Yeah. I am.”</p>
<p>“Not all the time.” Bridget smiled. “And I’ll ask Franky to cease and desist calling you that.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Bridget, I’ve just been so…” She covered her face in embarrassment. </p>
<p>“I know.”</p>
<p>“Oh God, should I… talk to her?”</p>
<p>“If you feel like it would help you, but I think Franky has accepted the situation.”</p>
<p>“I guess I should have given her more credit,” Astrid said, and Bridget silently agreed. </p>
<p>The women sat a cushion away from each other but the distance felt immeasurable from where they once were. As Bridget took the opportunity to decompress and even mourn the passing of a past relationship. </p>
<p>The front door creaked open and she heard Franky kick off her shoes. “I’m just gonna have a shower,” Franky hollered as she walked down the hall, astutely avoiding the scene in the lounge.</p>
<p>“So this is,” she motioned between them. “I mean, we’re okay, right?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Bridget nodded.</p>
<p>Astrid peeled back the blanket she had cocooned herself in and she appeared to look at Bridget with fresh eyes. “I’m glad you’re happy, Bridget.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>end part three</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Hangover</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Franky fiddled with the radio. The static between stations was irritating enough but when she hit her mark and the station she was searching for came in clearly, it was exceedingly loud.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you not?” Astrid snapped, wincing at the decibel level of her own voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, right. Headache. Soooorry.” Franky clicked her tongue and it echoed in the quiet of the car. “Right now I bet you’re wondering how pissed off I am about last night… Well, fear not! I’m about to tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Franky…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nuh.” Franky held up a finger. “My turn.” Franky sat back in her seat and tightened her seatbelt absentmindedly. She had hijacked Astrid and her car under the guise of returning Vera’s car. Now on the return trip, Franky was visiting upon Astrid the kind of lesson she might have dispatched in Wentworth. And although violence was not on the menu today, Franky was about to make it known that it very well could be in the future. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first step was to make her nervous. It had been about thirty seconds since she hushed her and no doubt Astrid was starting to sweat the fact that she was alone in her car with an ex-crim. When she finally spoke, her voice was heavy with disappointment. “You really fucked up this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know she told--”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah!” She held up a finger to quiet her again. “Yeah, she told me about you. She also told me it’s ancient history so I hope you got the memo because if you pull that shit again, I will fucking end you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, Franky!” Astrid yelped, taking her eyes off the road to check her passenger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, we can be chummy, you can call me ‘mate’, but take one step over that imaginary line…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got it,” Astrid said defensively. “You’re nuts.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can take the girl out of prison but it’s a lot harder to take the prison out of the girl.” Astrid slowed the car as they approached Bridget’s. Franky looked her over. “So do we have an understanding?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The car stopped abruptly. “Yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm? What was that?” Franky pressed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she said, enunciating for effect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good.” Franky kicked open the car door and hopped out. She leaned into the car, a gleaming smile with full dimples sealed their interaction. “Have a fantastic rest of your day.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took great pleasure in slamming the car door heavily before spinning on her heel and walking toward the front door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky felt alive, adrenaline coursing through her body. It had been a long time since she had felt her pulse pounding or felt it ringing in her ears, unrelated to exercise or sex. Her body’s response to confrontation was felt in its Southern hemisphere, and now that Franky had dealt with Astrid, she was full of inspiration on how to deal with those feelings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fire in Franky’s belly smoldered as she opened the front door. Her skin pricked with goosebumps, her nipples tightened as she walked into the lounge where Bridget was sitting in the armchair, reading. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Franky.” She smiled earnestly, but her expression became puzzled as Franky approached and pulled her to her feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before Bridget knew what was happening, Franky covered her mouth with a crushing kiss. She swayed and Franky wrapped her arms around Bridget’s waist, steadying her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Franky,” she breathed, as they separated. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked into Bridget’s eyes and saw her questions, just as she was sure Bridget saw the doubt in her own eyes. Franky knew if given the opportunity, Bridget would want to talk about it, so she started unbuttoning her shirt. She didn’t want to talk anymore, especially since Bridget’s birthday had been a shitshow and getting naked just might salvage the rest of the day or, at the very least, allow them to forget about the aforementioned shitshow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Bridget didn’t lag behind, her smile fading as she pulled her sweater over her head and tossed it onto the chair. Nodding, Franky lifted her off the ground, Bridget’s legs wrapping around the back of her thighs as their lips pressed together again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky stumbled backwards, kicking the coffee table and yelping in pain as she fell backwards onto the lounge, grunting as they landed heavily in a heap. She let her head fall backwards into the pillows and sighed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget lifted her head from Franky’s chest, propping herself up with a hand on either side of Franky’s head. A sympathetic “Baby…” escaped Bridget as she stroked her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had all night to grind her teeth about Astrid sleeping on the lounge, and when she left for her run in the morning, her jaw still ached. Everything felt impossible. She couldn’t even fuck without falling over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the point?” Franky groaned, squeezing her eyes shut.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Frankyyy,” Bridget purred against her ear. “I think the point is self-evident.” Her husky reply sent shivers through her body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inspiration began to course through her veins, thudding against her temple, rushing in her ears, throbbing between her legs. She opened her eyes to find Bridget smiling, gazing down upon her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Leaning up, Franky snatched her lips, kissing her eagerly. She tightened her arms around Bridget as their kiss deepened. Sitting up with her she tugged at the waistband of her pants, grumbling in frustration as the space between them, or lack thereof, compounded the problem.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Straddling her waist, Bridget looked her over, and in a moment of unsteadiness, Bridget squealed as they tumbled onto the floor together, dissolving into laughter. Franky buried her face in Bridget’s neck, chortling against her skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fucking hell,” she breathed, hovering above Bridget. “Nothing about this should be difficult.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yet…” She said, chuckling. Her expression grew serious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh fuck, here it comes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Franky, are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gidge,” her voice pleaded piteously. “Can we not do this right now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She saw the indecision in Bridget’s face, the compassion and inability to let an obvious problem fester between them unabated. She nodded and seemed to let it go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Franky knew better. She wouldn’t get out of explaining her motivations, but Bridget would always be up to accompanying Franky wherever she needed to go. And today, Franky only needed Bridget.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky worked the button at her waistband, quickly yanking her zipper down before reaching to help Bridget unbuckle her belt. Her hips lifted off the flooring and Franky pulled her pants from her legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was frenetic, quickly shifting between removing clothing and kissing Bridget roughly. There was no time for thinking, no time for doubt or hurt. She just needed to wash it all away with the comfort of her touch and the delicacy of her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they were finally nude, Franky settled atop Bridget, her body cooling Franky’s feverish skin if only slightly. Hands on either side of Bridget’s face, Franky searched her features for the look that made everything okay--the expression of acceptance and understanding, Bridget’s overwhelming empathy, and deep love for her--and she found it there. Beyond those, Bridget was focused, her hunger more than apparent to Franky.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the realization that Bridget wanted her as much as she wanted her, Franky felt her own need intensify. Arching off the pile of clothes they found themselves on, Bridget sighed as Franky’s fingers played against her belly, moving lower, inching between their bodies. When Franky’s fingers hit their mark, Bridget’s hips jumped into her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing that compared to that first exploration, and she took her time, savoring the honeyed skin beneath her fingertips. The sigh that escaped her lover then made her stomach somersault and Franky’s methodical exploration became less focused and more erratic as her need multiplied once again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lavished kisses upon Bridget’s neck and breasts, eliciting groans of pleasure and contentment and when Franky began to grind into the back of her own hand as she pressed against Bridget’s core. The smooth bump of her knuckles against her own center caused her to clench her teeth and her jaw ache again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The reminder momentarily derailed her rhythmic thrusting. Bridget’s arms stretched above her head--so free and unashamed--just what Franky had always wanted in a lover. In fact, getting with Bridget was like winning the lottery. She had helped Franky to become a better, more well-adjusted woman, and she didn’t stop there. She filled her home with love, invited her in, and Franky felt free to truly laugh again in that space. But she didn’t feel like laughing just then. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was overcome with her desire, her hips thrusting erratically causing both Bridget and herself to grunt at the repeated pressure. Propping herself up with her free arm, their mouths tangled again as her hand worked overtime between their bodies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget’s hips were moving in tandem with hers as she luxuriated beneath Franky. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as Bridget cried out, but her hips did not stop, Franky returned over and over again, delicious contact of her knuckles against their centers as she finally found her release. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Franky began to tremble, Bridget’s hands cupped her face and Franky squeezed her eyes shut as she came. When Franky exhaled and opened her eyes, Bridget’s hands slipped away. She had watched the entire scene unfold and in the grandest of climaxes, Bridget didn’t let her hide her face, she held her and observed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky collapsed beside Bridget on the floor, cushioned only by their discarded clothing. Catching her breath, she looked over at Bridget. “I thought your birthday should end with a bang.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget glanced at Franky briefly, turning away to laugh at Franky’s crass joke. It was music to Franky’s ears and she found herself smiling far and wide as she watched Bridget enjoy her humor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Bridget said, finally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, sweet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Franky…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gidge, I’m fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You said that last night, but I get the feeling that something’s changed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky sat up, the afterglow having dispersed quicker than she’d hoped. “I’m used to two-faced shit from being on the inside, Gidge, but you can’t be someone’s mate if they’re trying to steal your girl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Franky, you didn’t do anything stupid, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I established boundaries.” She could tell by Bridget’s expression that she was skeptical. “With words,” she concluded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Relief washed over Bridget’s features. “Thank God.” She sat up, gathering her clothes before getting to her feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where are ya goin’?” Franky held out a hand, questioning.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To the bedroom.” She walked to the edge of the dining room, heading toward the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would gladly take a do-over after the clumsy start they shared. She tried to reason it away, but Franky had been so distracted by her own physiology after her run-in with Astrid that she didn’t even consider that the reason why pouring herself into sex wasn’t working was because it was an old habit. Franky had replaced most of her dysfunctional habits from prison, but her arousal after threatening Astrid had been pretty powerful. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Old habits die hard. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And fucking after destroying someone else was definitely one of her oldest habits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But her motivations had changed. The rush from her confrontation with Astrid had gone, but she was still more than ready to spend the afternoon making love to Bridget. They were independent of each other and Franky was relieved to know that one of her oldest habits just might be on its way out, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you coming?” Bridget poked her head around the corner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky smiled mischievously. “Defs.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>end part four</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Pink Elephants</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Time seemed to move slowly after Bridget’s big birthday bash. Astrid came around less and less, Franky dug her heels in at work, working long hours routinely as they prepared for their upcoming trip, and Bridget tried to pretend that everything was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew, though, that something was amiss with Franky. Normally, she’d find a way to avoid working late more than one night a week, but lately she was more and more dedicated to her job and distant when she was home with Bridget. She had an inkling of the problem, but felt unable to tap into what exactly it was when they were alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, Franky came home an hour late and stuck her nose in her files after they ate dinner. It wasn’t unheard of, but definitely unusual, and when added to all the other circumstances recently, it was definitely not normal. But Bridget felt compelled to let her be, at least initially, because sometimes it was easier to avoid dealing with the elephant in the room, than to try to move it all by herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She caught herself staring at Franky, poised over paperwork at the kitchen table. Bridget had been trying to write up her own reports on her laptop in the lounge but tonight the elephant was pink and it was not content to sit in the corner, instead it was dancing around, making it much more difficult to ignore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed the document she had been working on and shut her laptop. Sashaying over to the kitchen table, Bridget pulled a chair out and sat beside Franky. “What’re you working on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just stuff that needs to get done before we leave.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got a lot on your plate right now,” Bridget said smoothly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky only grunted in response. The pink elephant was the centerpiece on the table tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky, is something bothering you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky looked up from her paperwork, trying (but failing) to hide her annoyance. “What? No. I’m just really busy with work, Gidge.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she nodded, but didn’t move away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a half a minute, Franky looked up from her files. “Is something bothering </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Her tone was snide, and Bridget recognized the petulance in her body language.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked away. “I don’t have time for this. I have to finish these statements so I can file them in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever since my birthday, you’ve been distant. And I thought this vacation would be a good thing for us, but I’m beginning to have my doubts if you have to work this much to make it happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky closed the file in front of her and looked up at her with an intensity that Bridget hadn’t seen in a very long time. “You don’t want to go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I do, baby. But are you going to even be speaking to me by the time we board that plane?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky stared stoically, but said nothing. “I want to meet your friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget’s heart skipped a beat and she felt instantly sick. “Franky, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You heard me. It’s been a long time, Gidge and I’ve given you space, but…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t need to ask what brought this on--Bridget knew. Her lie of omission had already ruptured and bled all over their relationship. Bridget worried that she had eroded a trust that had been a huge investment for them both. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to know how many other Astrid’s have there been?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer the question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want to compare sexual histories, I would be more than happy to share the details of my past with you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Gidge, I don’t want a dissertation, I just want to know--were there others?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I fail to see how this has any bearing on our relationship,” Bridget sidestepped the pink elephant once again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky laughed disdainfully, shaking her head. “Right. Fuckin’ perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget leaned closer to the other woman. “What exactly are you afraid of, Franky?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forget I said anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You and I both know that’s not possible.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky remained stoic, crossing her arms and shaking her head, as if refusing to speak would make the pink elephant sitting on her lap go away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget was patient and waited quietly beside Franky who sank into her seat. Bridget recognized her pose from their sessions at Wentworth. And when she finally spoke, Bridget wished she had muscled the elephant out of the room when she had the chance. “I’ll never be good enough, will I? Once a crim, always a crim, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who told you that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s what you think, isn’t it? That’s why I haven’t met your friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Franky.” Bridget sighed. “You’re right. I haven’t been honest with you, but it’s not about what you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” Franky said derisively. “What now? Are you a divorcee? Do you have a kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” she shook her head. “Nothing like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then, what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have any friends, Franky. Not anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky frowned, not appearing to believe what she was hearing. “How is that even possible?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Blackballed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No, it’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? How?” Franky’s forehead scrunched with effort as she tried to understand the impossible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky… it’s not important.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure it is. You know every last fucking thing about me and you pull this shit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pink elephant was now sitting on Bridget’s chest. When the truth is worse than the lie, it was difficult to justify telling the truth. Bridget called those the hard truths--the ones that hurt more than they healed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just let it go, Franky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nuh. No fucking way. You were ostracized for something, and I wanna know what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay…” She said hesitantly. “Before you… there was someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Astrid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Bridget held up a hand. “A client.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky stood up abruptly, knocking the chair over. “What the fuck?” Her face was a portrait of injury, a frown creasing her forehead as she locked her hands behind her head and paced by the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you fuck her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” She shook her head. “But I lost my position over it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And your friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, not initially.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you gonna tell me or just make me guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After I got arrested…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget watched the realization sideswipe Franky like a drunk driver. She never wanted Franky to find out because she knew if she did it would change everything. Franky would wonder if she was worthy, or as special as she felt when Bridget invested time and energy in her and ultimately “chose” her. Not to mention Bridget’s inevitable fall from grace in her eyes. She saw it all culminating in a rare moment of vulnerability for Franky and herself. The moment, however, was short-lived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Struck by lightning twice… what are the odds?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s your kink? You pick up crims?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I never meant for it to happen. But sometimes this work is so personal that it’s easy to forget the connections we make aren’t as personal as they seem.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fuckin’ news to me,” Franky said unironically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was nothing like you… nothing like us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why’d you lie?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget clenched her teeth. Honesty was now as dangerous as that giant pink elephant threatening to fall over onto her as she tried to roll it out the house. “Because I didn’t want you to question everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you acknowledge that not telling me was a calculated move on your part?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky...:”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gidge, I just want us to be clear about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget found herself at a loss for words. How could she admit the reason she didn’t tell Franky about the other prisoner is that she felt vulnerable exposing her misdeeds to someone who thought she was above them? And she especially didn’t want to diminish Franky. But mostly she didn’t want to change Franky’s perception of her. It was selfish and Bridget felt horrible. She had reprimanded Franky repeatedly for her lying all the while hiding a huge piece of the puzzle from her. It was unfair and Bridget knew it was a keystone in their relationship. It was the piece she counted on to retain a measure of control. The piece that kept her secure in their relationship--Franky needed her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was no control anymore, only chaos and a pink elephant. “I should have told you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ right, you should have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky, she has nothing to do with what I feel for you or how we got here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So tell me what happened. Be honest with me.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the island.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget sighed and nodded. “I was young, I wanted to help someone and it just got out of hand. But… I paid the price and I worked hard to get my station back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky raised her eyebrows, waiting. “Until me. That’s what you’re not saying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Franky, I love you and if the people I used to call friends couldn’t support me, maybe it isn’t so bad that they’ve gone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that’s it? You were left with Astrid, who obviously didn’t share the same moral compass as the rest of your so-called friends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nodded. In the silence that followed, Bridget tried to read Franky’s body language, her expressions, and even her mind--the latter was more unsuccessful than the former. “Are we okay?” Bridget asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky chewed her lip, eyeing Bridget suspiciously. “I dunno,” she said, finally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget stood, righting the fallen chair before approaching Franky. “Franky...” Bridget exhaled softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You gave all that up for me.” It was a statement, a realization of the sacrifices Bridget had made behind-the-scenes of their relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. And I’d do it all again.” Bridget nodded. “C’mon.” She placed her hand on Franky’s opposite cheek and turned her face towards her own. “It’s late, why don’t you finish up and come to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky readjusted her crossed arms unyieldingly. Her body language simply said “no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby…” She said softly. “I just want to get on that plane in a week and enjoy our time away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Franky nodded and silently stepped away from Bridget towards the table. Bridget knew that meant she would be okay if she just gave her some time and space. It also meant Bridget would spend the following hour and a half reading in the bedroom as Franky cooled and wrapped up her work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget closed her book and returned it to the bedside table, pushing the button on her lamp to extinguish the light. Turning onto her side, Bridget exhaled. She wasn’t tired and even if she were, the general unease that she felt would have kept her awake half the night. A few minutes later she heard Franky shuffling down the hallway towards the bedroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waited for her to change, and when the bed sunk beside her, she waited for her to turn her back and fall asleep. But Franky surprised her, as she was often inclined to do. She lay on her back fidgeting with her pillow until she settled and Bridget heard her exhale, a few moments later Franky’s arm stretched out to gather Bridget up against her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bridget’s arm wrapped around Franky’s waist and held her tightly. It wasn’t a guarantee--far from it--but it was a start, an ovation of love that Bridget could not deny. The next week would be telling for them both. But… the elephant had left the building.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>end part five</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Wrong Place, Right Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Franky Doyle was a student of the school of life, and she’d learned some lessons the very hard way, others had come easily, but with Franky Doyle there was no middle-ground. Everything about Franky’s life up till this point had been polarized, contrast after stark contrast. Abusive mother versus absentee father. Violent crim past versus peaceful paralegal future. Kim Chang versus Bridget Westfall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wentworth was the shittiest part of Franky’s life. And before Bridget was there to throw her a lifeline, Franky truly depended on Kim. It may not have been love, but Franky knew Kim’s value as a friend and a lover. When Kim re-offended with the sole purpose of reuniting with Franky, she realised that she had pushed things too far with her, giving off the wrong impression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Kim, she never had to try. She was her at her insistence wherever and whenever Franky needed her. There was little pushback and Franky trampled Kim’s best intentions on most days. There was little respect, scarcely more than she had for Jodie, and Franky knew Kim would follow her wherever she went and there was something about that Franky found entirely unsexy. Kim was a clear cut case of wrong place, wrong time. In another lifetime, under different circumstances, it might’ve been possible to imagine a relationship with Kim. But after meeting Bridget, she knew it was more likely that it would never have worked with Kim.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With Bridget--the chase, the verbal foreplay, the matching of wits--it was all new territory for Franky, coupled with the fact that she didn’t put up with Franky’s shit, made it a powerful aphrodisiac. However, Franky struggled to break old habits with Bridget. The lying, however necessitated by prison, hastened trust issues between them and Franky was unable to shake the feeling that she didn’t deserve Bridget a lot of the time, which was definitely not even a consideration of her past lovers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But everything had changed when Bridget lied. And it wasn’t a lie of convenience, it was a premeditated lie of omission--the kind she’d harangued Franky about since day one. The kind of lie she said she would not tolerate. And now that Franky had been asked to tolerate it from Bridget, she was having difficulty swallowing it herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Days had passed since Bridget’s revelations and there was a tenuous grasp on civility, but Franky was the walking wounded. She had the following day to wrap up all of her responsibilities at Legal Relief and then they would set off for Bali--something that had gone from a source of great excitement to one of worry and trepidation. She let Bridget know at the beginning of the week that things would look different than they had before. She would work late as needed, and therefore probably not be home for dinner all week. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In short, make it yourself. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Franky smirked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If food was love, then Franky was withholding it from Bridget. It wasn’t intentional pettiness--well, maybe it was--but Franky wouldn’t dream of punishing Bridget as she might have any of her past lovers, but she still had to get her licks in where she could. So the petty withholding of her food was her one source of satisfaction. It was stupid and she knew it, but Franky wasn’t used to feeling so powerless in a relationship.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Up until now Franky had been fine with giving herself over to Bridget because the level of trust between them was so great that she didn’t have doubts. But now that things had been confused, Franky couldn’t say if she had trusted Bridget blindly. But with each passing day, Franky became more certain that Bridget was the same person she had always been. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stumbling block was Astrid. Franky couldn’t believe she was mates with one of Bridget’s exes not because she was an ex, but because she was never given the opportunity to object to being friends with her. It was a low, traitorous act and Franky felt the cut deeply. Did Bridget not trust her enough to let her make the decision to accept Astrid? It certainly felt like it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She considered Astrid momentarily and tutted to herself. Astrid had been pining away for Bridget for far too long and Franky kept coming back to the fact that she couldn't blame Astrid for wanting her. Bridget was fantastic. Astrid, however, was a horrid person and Franky could not disseminate why Bridget had even given her a second look. Franky shook her head. She supposed that made a case for her glaring beauty which she also found challenging. If her awful attitude weren’t enough to turn Bridget off, a hot ex-friend-with-benefits was actually pretty threatening. Franky wouldn’t care if it were anyone else, but she was enormously protective of Bridget. That fact alone raised the alarm bells in Franky’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d lost control of her emotions a long time ago. Her love for Bridget was a freight train barrelling down the track at top speed, careening around corners on with abandon, never considering what would happen when the tracks come to an end. Franky was a believer in full life cycles and no matter how good things were with Bridget, it was hard for her to consider that it would never come to an end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And like a self-fulfilling prophecy, she found herself at a crossroads. She could love Bridget as she remains, or judge her as she was, but she couldn’t do both. Franky looked up from her work and checked the clock on her cell. Seven-thirty. She hadn’t turned a page in an hour, her thoughts trained on Bridget and their current situation. She could wrap things up now and get home to Bridget before nine. It seemed like a good enough goal to shoot for. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shuffling papers into piles on her desk, Franky closed the file folder in front of her and sighed. Tomorrow was her last day at the office, and she couldn’t avoid Bridget forever. Every night that Franky held Bridget without forgiving her was a lie she had to live with as their trust continued to erode. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Enough</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>She checked her watch. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ten to nine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she smiled. Approaching the bungalow, Franky noticed there weren’t any lights on and yet Bridget’s VW sat in the driveway. Franky crept into their home quietly, shutting the door nearly silently, not wanting to disturb Bridget.. She advanced into the lounge expecting to find Bridget asleep with a book in her lap, instead she was surprised to find Bridget surrounded by the glow of a dozen candles, sitting in the dark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gidge?” She said, mildly concerned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey.” She looked up from the glass of wine she was gazing into and smiled at Franky. It was a sad sort of smile. The kind a person uses to hide what they are truly feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you get something to eat or are you drinking dinner tonight?” It came out more snide than she had intended.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I got take-away.” She poked the paper bag next to the coffee table and took another sip from her glass.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky frowned, leaning against the chair awkwardly. “Everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to cancel the trip?” She said seriously, and Franky could tell she was more than tipsy tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget smirked and shook her head. “Franky, you haven’t been home before nine all week. Where is this work coming from?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The truth was that Franky had taken on extra responsibilities at Legal Relief when a co-worker went on holidays, taking on another caseload for the experience, but also to keep herself busy. She wasn’t exactly proud of her decision and she didn’t know how to tell Bridget that she wasn’t even working on her own caseload today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I needed time to think,” she said. It wasn’t a total lie, but Franky winced just the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Franky… I’m starting to think you aren’t ever going to be okay with what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s barely been a week,” Franky said defensively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If you’re avoiding me, we’ve already lost something, baby.” The sadness in her voice, set Franky on edge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gidge,” Franky said, wringing her hands. “I just needed some time. That’s it.” She sat on the chair across from Bridget who had wedged herself in between the lounge and coffee table. She looked so small against the backdrop of the lounge looming behind her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was clear that in the days between her revelation and that moment, Franky’s distance had played tricks on Bridget’s faith in their love and trust, too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I've been thinking a lot about the way things unfolded between us."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Franky, I never planned--"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky held up a hand to quiet her. "I know," she reassured. "But here we are, and honestly, I'm happy with where we're at."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"You're happy?" Bridget was skeptical. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I was."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget nodded. "Right."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"But I realized that Astrid was your Kimmy."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm not following."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"They are both spirited, attentive, and uncomplicated. And they were there when we needed them, but ultimately it was a wrong fit. Wrong place, wrong time."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Oh, Franky." The relief in her voice carried through the small space between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"The way I see it, Wentworth was the wrong place, but it was the right time for us, and Astrid notwithstanding, you’ve always been on the level with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget exhaled and set the wine glass on the table in front of her. Tucking her chin, she nodded. The wine had made her weary, and Franky recognized it when she saw it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you eaten?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon,” Franky said, hands outstretched. “Pass it here. I’ll heat it up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget picked up the paper bag noisily and deposited it in Franky’s hands. “It’s Thai.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky nodded and carried the brown bag to the kitchen. Spooning the food onto plates, she heated them up in the microwave, one at a time. Franky carried the steaming plate of food to Bridget, who climbed onto the lounge unsteadily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She was wrecked.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky returned a few minutes later with another plate of food and a glass of water. She set the water in front of Bridget and set aside the wine glass casually as she sat beside her. Poking at her pad thai with a fork, Bridget looked disinterested in eating. Franky knew, however, that food in her belly was what she needed more than anything at that moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go on. Eat.” Franky shrugged in her direction, imploring Bridget wordlessly to take a bite.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget speared a few noodles with her fork and took a bite. Smiling at the effort, Franky followed suit. They ate silently, each woman sizing the other up without judgment. When Franky cleared the plates, Bridget sat back, tucking her feet underneath her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So how was your day?” Franky asked, ironically, in a sing-song voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget expelled a breath and chuckled quietly to herself. “It was busy,”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On the outside, their conversation looked like any other normal interaction because Franky was trying hard to keep it that way. Bridget’s energy at that particular moment was best described as a bit sloppy, defeated, and yet so poised in her defeat, but a bit unpredictable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky nodded as she plopped down on the lounge beside Bridget once again. “My day was also busy,” Franky smiled. “But we’re home now…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” Bridget agreed in no uncertain terms, still groggy from the alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you wrap up everything you needed to?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Bridget replied. “You’re working tomorrow?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Franky said quietly. “But just a half-day. Then,” she said, laying a hand on Bridget’s thigh. “I’m all yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget’s eyes met hers suddenly, staring into her. “Promise?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They had shared this moment before and Franky had lied to her. Tonight, however, the truth was the easiest answer. Franky met her gaze and nodded. “I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget exhaled a shaky breath and Franky wondered if she remembered the last time Franky had said those words.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Who the fuck was she kidding? Of course Bridget remembered. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bridget’s hand found hers resting on her thigh and grasped her fingers. It was the smallest gesture and yet it was a lifeline. A tether to pull her ashore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“C’mon, let’s get to bed. Big day tomorrow.” Franky stood, pulling Bridget to her feet as well. She spent a few moments extinguishing the collection of candles before tugging on Bridget’s hand and pulling her down the hall towards the bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was rare that Bridget let Franky look after her. They loved, laughed, and shared pretty much everything, but Bridget was stingy with her need for Franky’s caretaking. And for the most part, Franky was okay with the arrangement. Unlike other lovers, it meant that even if she were oblivious and missed a cue it would not end in a fight. Bridget was extremely low key compared to Franky’s past lovers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But tonight, Bridget let Franky stabilize her as she hopped out of her pants and undressed unsteadily. And after Franky had helped her put on her pajamas, she let Franky crawl into bed behind her and hold her reassuringly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Franky remembered the lonely, hard bunks of Wentworth when she’d dream about returning to their bed or even before she ever had carnal knowledge of Bridget’s bed, she’d fantasize about her bedroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And how different things were now--settled into the down pillows, Bridget in her arms, on the eve of the biggest trip of Franky’s life, not to mention their relationship.  It was their first real holiday together that wasn’t in-state.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Baby?” Bridget said sleepily into her pillow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, Gidge?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I luff yew mmf,” she heard the near unintelligible response as Bridget mumbled into slumber.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dimples creased Franky’s cheeks as she smiled into Bridget’s hair. She had finally found the right place and the right time</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I love you too, Gidge.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>end part 6</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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